Kansas City Confessions. Julie Miller

always seemed petite and fragile. It didn’t help that she’d kicked off her shoes beneath the table, while he’d tied on a pair of thick-soled work boots this morning to shovel his sidewalks, blow the snow off his driveway and walk the dog he’d taken in around the block. Despite her uncharacteristic flashes of frustration and temper, and the static electricity that made the strands of her ponytail cling to the black flannel of his shirt, she seemed pretty and dainty and far too female for the cells in his body not to leap to attention whenever he got this close to her.

      “You seem a little off your game this morning.” He spoke over the top of her head, backing away from the enticement of making contact with more than a few wayward strands of hair. “You know something about the lieutenant’s emergency meeting that you’re not telling me?”

      “Nope. She was business as usual.”

      “Is Tyler okay?”

      “He’s fine. I swear.” Katie tilted her gaze up to meet his, confirming with a quick smile that that much, at least, was true. Then she went back to work on her laptop. She swiped her finger across a graphic on her screen and loaded the image of several mug shots up onto the larger screen. “I guess he’s a little ticked at me. There’s this stray dog that he’s gotten attached to running around the theater this past week. He wants a dog so badly, it’s at the top of his Christmas list. But our landlord won’t allow pets. I mean, the dog is friendly enough, but he’s skin and bones. I feel so bad for him, especially in this weather. Apparently, Tyler’s been feeding him.”

      “A tan dog with a white stripe around his neck?”

      “Yes. How did you...?” Her cheeks heated with color as she tilted her face up to his. “You went to the theater last night. I told you everything was fine.”

      Trent propped his hands at his waist, dipping his head toward hers. He matched her indignant tone. “No, you told me you’d handle whatever it was. If everything is fine, you wouldn’t need to handle anything.”

      “Well, I don’t need you to rescue me every time something scares me.”

      “What scared you?”

      She paused for a moment before waving off his concern and turned back to her computer. “That’s not what I meant.”

      “Then give me some straight answers. Something hinky was going on outside that theater. Either you saw something, or you at least suspected it.” He wrapped his fingers around the pink wool sleeve of her sweater and softened his tone. “Something that scared you, and that’s why you called me.”

      She hesitated for a moment before shrugging off his touch. “You were on a date.”

      “The date was over.”

      “Because of me?” She turned in the tight space between the table and chair, her forehead scrunched up with remorse.

      He tapped the furrow between her brows and urged her to relax. “Because I wanted it to be.”

      She batted his hand away, dismissing his concern. “Trent, I don’t have the right to call you whenever I need something. I’m not going to wimp out on being a strong woman and I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship. We shouldn’t have that you’re-the-guy-I-always-call-on kind of relationship, anyway. You need to...find someone and move on with your life.”

      “I’ll make my own decisions, thank you. I call you when I need something, don’t I?”

      “Sewing a button on your dress uniform is hardly the same thing.”

      “Look, you and I know more about each other than just about anybody else. We’ve shared secrets and heartaches and stupid stuff, too. That’s what people who care about each other do. Now—as a friend who doesn’t appreciate phone calls that make him think something bad has happened and he needs to drop everything without even taking a shower and speed across town in a snowstorm—”

      “You didn’t—”

      “—I need you to tell me exactly why you called last night. And don’t tell me you were frightened of that sweet little dog, who, incidentally, is spending the day at the vet’s office while the Humane Society is checking to see if he’s been reported missing.”

      Her eyes widened again. “You rescued the dog?”

      “You wouldn’t let me rescue you. Now answer the question. What scared you last night?”

      “Nothing but my imagination. I’m sorry I worried you. The dog’s okay?”

      She changed topics like a hard right turn in a high-speed chase.

      Trent shrugged. This woman always kept him on his toes. “I fed him some scrambled eggs and gave him water. He spent the night whimpering on a blanket in my mudroom, but he didn’t have any accidents. Don’t know if he’s housebroken or just too scared he’ll get into trouble and get dumped out someplace again. I took him to the vet’s this morning for a thorough checkup and a much-needed grooming. My truck still smells like wet, stinky dog.”

      “Thank you.” Her lips softened into a beautiful smile. When she reached out to squeeze his hand, he squeezed right back. “Thank you for saving him. I wanted to, but I’m not sure Tyler would understand having to take him to a shelter instead of taking him home.”

      “It looks like I’ll be fostering Mr. Pup for a while. Until the Humane Society can find out if there’s an owner or put him up for adoption. Maybe Tyler can come visit him.”

      Katie shook her head, whipping the ponytail back and forth. “Don’t tell him that. He’d be at your house every day after school.”

      “You know I don’t mind having Tyler around.”

      “I know. But... Mr. Pup? Tyler calls him Padre.”

      Trent nodded. The name fit. “Like a priest’s collar. That’s what I’ll call him, then. Now, about last night...” He could do the sharp right turns, too. But her frustrated huff warned him he’d have to coax the answers out of her, just like he’d coaxed Padre into trusting him. “You have to give me something, Katie. You know I won’t quit.”

      “I know.” Her blue eyes tilted up to meet his briefly. Her gaze quickly dropped to the middle button of his shirt, where she plucked away what was most likely a couple of dog hairs. The nerves beneath his skin jumped as her fingers danced against his chest. But he couldn’t allow himself to respond to the unintended caress. This was distraction. Nervous energy. Something on her mind that kept her from focusing. There was definitely something bothering Team Rinaldi this morning. “I have to get ready for the meeting.”

      “Every morning, you’ve been bragging about Tyler and the play you guys are doing. This morning, all you’re doing is apologizing and fussing around like it’s your first day on the job.” Outweighing her by a good hundred pounds wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t budging. He covered her hand with his, stilling her fidgeting fingers. “Talk to me. Use words that make sense.”

      “Calling you was an impulse,” she conceded. “Once I got my act together, I realized I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

      Nope. He still wasn’t budging.

      Trent felt the whisper of her surrendering sigh against his hand. “They didn’t need me backstage last night, so I was doing some work on my laptop out in the theater auditorium. I found a connection between an old double missing-person case and some new stuff we’re working on. I got caught up following the trail through the reports and I lost track of the time.”

      This was remorse talking, maybe even a little fear, he thought, as she slowly tilted her gaze to his again. “I couldn’t find Tyler when I was done. I mean, eventually I did. He was by himself in the parking lot, waiting for me. Everyone else had left and he was locked out of the building. And then I thought I heard... I swear someone was...”

      “Someone was what?” He gently combed his fingers through her scattered bangs, smoothing them